


but i'm only on my knees

by perpetvo



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Submission Kink, Under-negotiated kinks, alex likes being on his knees, but they negotiate it eventually, but they're not really undertones tbh, henry's secret dom side makes an appearance, sleepy shower vibes, tender moments in bed, they go back to paris and alex gives henry yet another blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetvo/pseuds/perpetvo
Summary: He remembers what he said, the catalyst for all of this.“I’ve always liked being on my knees.”A golden eyebrow lifted at this, a healthy pink glow settling across freckle dusted cheeks.“I’m a good Catholic boy, at the core,” he had said with a twinkle of promised sin in his eyes.“Hopefully not too good,” was the rumbling response, low and reciprocal in its teasing. Alex thoughtfully sucked on his lime, then the pad of his thumb, almost too deliberately.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 259





	but i'm only on my knees

**Author's Note:**

> whew chile i was horny on the bus listening to 'devil i know' by allie x (from which the title comes from) and thought of THIS 
> 
> so.... enjoy :)

Knees on the marble, Alex begins to reassess his situation. The sharp, demanding clink of a gold belt snaps his focus onto the circumstance he’s found himself in. Hotel in Paris. Foyer of the Presidential Suite. Pale hands and rolled sleeves and an untamed, cheeky, dimpled grin in the dim lights of a bar. Mouths stained with red wine and lips loose. 

He remembers what he said, the catalyst for all of this. 

“I’ve always liked being on my knees.” 

A golden eyebrow lifted at this, a healthy pink glow settling across freckle dusted cheeks. 

“I’m a good Catholic boy, at the core,” he had said with a twinkle of promised sin in his eyes. 

“Hopefully not too good,” was the rumbling response, low and reciprocal in its teasing. Alex thoughtfully sucked on his lime, then the pad of his thumb, almost  _ too  _ deliberately. 

And now Alex felt himself in that same position of reverence, lowered physically and mentally, reduced to the cold stone against his knees and the warm hand on his cheek. His eyes are half lidded. A warm chuckle stirs him from his reverie. 

“First Son of the United States. Reduced to a pliant mess if you put him on his knees. I can see the headlines,” are the teasing, gentle and just a touch uncertain words Alex hears. He responds with a lazy smile, thick eyelashes lifting to reveal his pupil-blown eyes and accentuating the broken-wonky bridge of his nose. A soft thumb strokes down the line of it, then repeats the action when Alex releases a long sigh. The thumb, on a stroke down, doesn’t stop at the tip of his nose but continues, brushing over his lips, dragging down his lower one. 

Alex flicks out his tongue in reply, before taking it into his mouth. Henry’s breath hitches and Alex sucks experimentally, because really, he likes the submission of it all, but he’s a little cold and likes the way Henry will moan for him because they’re both too drunk to worry about the noise. 

Alex reaches up and puts his hands on Henry’s polo-playing thighs and sends a grin up at him, mouth still working around his thumb. He works at the slacks and their fly, unzipping it and tugging them and the conservative yet somehow, to Alex’s wine-drunk and sex addled brain, devastatingly sexy briefs Henry wore down to his thighs. Henry removes his hand from Alex’s mouth to his hair and earns a moan in response. 

“Fuck,” Alex swears, eyes slipping again as Henry’s hand works through his dark, loose curls and his cock sits almost fully hard against his hairy thigh. Alex’s

mind spins. 

Henry hums in agreement, tugging Alex’s bead closer to his crotch by the hair. It’s a bold movement, uncharacteristically experimental for Henry, but Alex just gives a sharp exhale and looks at Henry wantonly. He must look a right whore- messed up, tugged at curls, pupils swallowing any brown in his eyes, pink cheeked and red lipped, mouth open in a way that was too suggestive of what he  _ could  _ be doing with his mouth. 

Henry swears and gives another tug. “Sweetheart, you’re going to kill me,” he whispers and Alex gives a pathetic, desperate whimper that he smooths over with a cough. 

“Just lemme- can I-“ he whispers, eyes flicking between Henry’s big eyes and his equally big dick. 

“Jesus, Alex, yes, God,” is the mangled response, and Alex wastes no time in taking his shaft in hand and licking it base to tip with a flat tongue, making Henry’s back bow and his head hit the door behind him with a groan. 

One hand palms his balls and the other makes a tight fist around the space that Alex can’t fit in his mouth- he’s fairly new to the practice, even if it is quickly becoming a favourite pastime. He looks up at Henry, who is looking more and more undone with every moment Alex spends with his mouth suctioned around his cock. 

“So fucking good, Alex, you like this, don’t you? Bet you like being on your knees for me, sucking my cock, huh?”

Alex moans his response, eyes fluttering as he picks up the pace on Henry’s dick, dragging his lips around the head. 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. You just kneel there and forget about everything else, hm? You just focus on making me feel good,” Henry whispers, and Alex has to pull off his dick for a moment. He puts his forehead to a bare patch of skin in between Henry’s rucked up shirt and pulled down slacks, panting, blinking hard. 

“Love?” Henry asks, uncertainty creeping in, voice sinking several shades softer. 

Alex shifts his head, not wanting to stop resting his head, big brown eyes looking up at Henry. “Yeah, just gimme a second, or I’m gonna blow my load just listening to you talk and sucking you off, fuck,” he whispers, chuckling out a hoarse laugh. Henry keeps running his hands through Alex’s hair, letting him catch his breath. “Where’d you learn to do… that? Goddamn.” 

Henry gives a pleased shrug, a half smile appearing. “Mm. I like when pretty boys kneel for me,” he murmurs, pulling down Alex’s lower lip with his thumb, holding his jaw, all wealth and authority. It makes Alex sink into the feeling, eyes falling half mast. “Good boy.”

“Are you secretly a top?” Alex slurs, eyes barely open. It comes out more like “reyouseelyatop?”

Henry chuckles and tugs his hair again, and Alex feels like if he doesn’t get his mouth back on Henry’s cock in three seconds he’s going to explode, so he does. 

It doesn’t take long for Henry to come like that, domineering voice holding Alex even tighter than the grip in his curls, hips lifting off the door and head throw back, making Alex come in his slacks just by hitting the back of his throat with his cock. 

They shower in tired, expended silence, Alex a flopping pancake of a person, and Henry a cuddle-starved teddy bear. They end up just hugging in the shower until one of the PPOs comes knocking and they bashfully get out and explain that they’d both fallen asleep, cuddling, in the shower. 

They fall into the lush hotel bed, clingy and still-damp. Alex presses his favourite kiss to his favourite freckle; right above Henry’s collarbone, just shy of being on his throat. Henry hums and tucks himself into Alex until he’s practically koala’d himself, face nestled in the crook of Alex’s neck. 

“Baby,” Alex murmurs, pressing kisses to his regal hairline- fortunately  _ not _ receding… yet. 

“Wha?” Henry slurs. 

“Are we gonna talk about it?” 

“Talk ‘bout what?” comes the typically disgruntled, affronted, poshly-accented reply. 

“The… you-being-a-top thing?” he asks, voice soft but still somehow conveying an edge of panic. “Because I honestly don’t mind, I’m… I’ll do whatever, you know?” 

Henry raises his head, his floofy hair making him look like a disturbed, ruffled, sleepy bird. 

“Alex. You’re doing the over-thinking thing again,” he says, kissing him but missing his mouth and meeting the corner of his mouth. “If you want to get really technical, I don’t usually like being on the giving end of anal penetration. I usually prefer to receive.” Alex makes a face and Henry rolls his eyes. “You literally stopped functioning with lust when I pulled my dick out, don’t be a bitch.” Alex guffaws and Henry presses a finger over his lips. “Ssh. We can do, as you say, whatever. It doesn’t seem like either of us are really one way or another about it. So please, Alex,  _ relax _ . I would have sucked your dick but you were too busy creaming yourself because I fucked your mouth.” Alex goes beet red and makes more spluttering noises, and Henry just chuckles as he resettles on his chest. 

Alex huffs indignantly, but still presses a disgruntled kiss to Henry’s forehead, who gives a sleepy smile. 

“Love you, Alex.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he says softly, the last of his faux-offended demeanour dissolving, “love you too, baby.” 

  
  



End file.
